All That's Left
by Ninja Basket
Summary: If Mello's gone, and Matt's going to find him, and Near is Near, who's left to defeat Kira? 25-prompts meme.
1. Plunge

_A/N: Here it is, another story._

_It's kind of hard to imagine that only this summer I was a dead stand-still. Hope you like it, it's my 25-promot meme, and it's just like inspiration on a silver platter._

_So...here we go! Enjoy!_

* * *

Here goes everything...

thought Mello. He put his right foot forward, than his left, and then he was walking. The pang the icy rain was sending down his spine was almost unbearable. _And to think I was safe and warm a minute ago._

By the time he reached the gate, Mello was soaked through to the bone. His clothes were sticking to him like a second skin, and at this point, his sorry excuse for a coat was just making it worse. It was pitch black outside, the only light coming from a room on the second floor of Wammy's house, the room of the only boy who wouldn't sleep tonight.

The rain started coming down harder and harder, and Mello had to squint to see the padlock he was fumbling with. After a minute of battling with the lock, the gate creaked open, but not before a gust of wind carried it in between Mello's eyes.

He rubbed the place where the metal had struck him, holding back the urge to fall apart and walk back to Wammy's with his tail between his legs.

No, going back would mean he was weak, and that he couldn't handle himself, and Mihael Keehl was not about to admit to being weak.

Maybe that's what kept him walking through the sheets of rain until the little light at Wammy's was just a small speck.

Plunged into the darkness.

Plunged into the cold.

Plunged into the rest of his life, off the deep and with no water wings to save him.

* * *

_A/N: To be continued..._

_I'll be updating these in increments of 2 or 5, depending on my schedule and what's done and worth posting._

_Reviews Anyone? But no flames. I recently recieved one and it burns like hell._


	2. Honey

_A/N: I can't believe it. I'm writing for Near alot lately, aren't I?_

_Here's the second chapter, Enjoy!_

* * *

Near watches Mello as the latter begins to run all around the cricket field, obviously upset by either his or his partner's horrid hit. He looks down at his puzzle, which sits mournfully on the parlor floor, forgotten and uncompleted. He picks up another piece and places it in a socket. Nope, not a fit, into the discard pile.

He once again abandons his puzzle and looks back at the cricket field. Mello looks so pretty running around with his honey blonde hair flying behind him.

"Honey..." Near thinks aloud. Mello's hair is the exact color of the clover honey his mother used to feed him on his toast. The thick and smooth texture of it all, he wonders if Mello's hair would feel that way if he were to run his fingers through it, oh, how he longed to twirl his fingers inside of it.

He places another piece into the socket, and once again, it doesn't fit.

He is now bored of his puzzle. He decides to go outside and enjoy the weather while it lasts, sunny to make Mello's honey hair shine and glisten even more.

Near places a hesitant, socked foot out on the grass; _safe enough_ he deems. He gingerly walks over to the field where all the other children are playing, but before he can get there, Rodger calls them in for dinner.

On his way inside, Mello hair brushes Near's shoulder. So close and yet so far...

Near notices a small strand of blonde hair on his shirt. He picks it up and twists it in his fingers.

Near has never enjoyed sweet things, let alone honey, but perhaps he should just _try_ this sweet thing before declaring it horrible.

* * *

_A/N: To be continued..._

_Yes, these will all be this short. I was specifically told, "Short bursts of FanFiction."_

_And who am I to disobey the internet?_


	3. Psalm

_A/N: Whew. Well THAT was a long waiting period._

_Here's chapter three, enjoy!_

* * *

"_Ask of me, and I will, make the nations your heritage, and the ends of the earth shall be your possession._

_You shall break them with a rod of iron, and dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel._

_ ~Psalm 2:8-9_

It was damp in the bus stop. It hadn't stopped raining since he ran away, and Mello felt a rhythmic dropping of water on his head. He looked up, expecting to see some sort of sign.

Instead, a fat drop of dirty water fell into his eye.

"Damn it..." he muttered, wiping what he could out of his eye, causing it to turn an alarming shade of pink. His eyes begun to water, not cry, just water. Then, he started laughing, laughing that sounded half-way between a chuckle and a choked-back sob.

Back at Wammy's, he would have had the world set for him. A promised future, a happy life...,

...a best friend who would go to the ends of the earth for him...

But he had given that up.

Running away had ruined everything he ever had. The position of L was probably filled, Mello would probably be miserable for the remainder of his life, and Matt had most likely moved on and was now sleeping with Near.

At Mello's feet, a homeless man turned over in his sleep, and was now lying on top of Mello's left foot. Mello looked down at the man, buried his head in his knees, and cried. He cried and cried until his whole body ached.

He felt around the lining of his jacket for his pistol. He admired it in his hand for a moment.

Yes, this was his iron rod, and his life was the delicate piece of pottery it was destroying.

_Damn Kira, damn Rodger and Near and L..._

Mello checked his watch.

_Damn late bus._

_

* * *

_

_A/N: To be continued..._

_I know that I said I'd post two at a time, but it's the weekend, I'm bored, and had this finished._

_I probably won't be this quick to update after awhile. Like I said, I'm _Bored.

_Reviews, anyone?_

* * *


	4. Trigger Happy

_A/N: Yeah, not much to say about this one._

_Any reviews are apprciated, so, please review if you like it or have any suggestions to make this story better, okay?_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Mello stopped shining his gun to look at it briefly. He could see his eyes in it, the alarming shade of blue that stuck fear into the souls of most people.

For his nineteenth birthday (really his seventeenth, but no one here needed to know that), one of his men had given him a shiny new handgun, 'much better than that crappy old thing you're using' the note had said. But Mello wouldn't know. He spent so much time shining it; he had forgotten to test it.

That would change soon.

He excused himself from his place on the couch and walked outside into the deserted back alley of Los Angeles.

He loaded the gun and fired once. The feel of it firing sent shivers up his spine.

He shot it again, this time, facing the opposite direction. The bullet hit a dumpster and bounced off, landing somewhere among his neighbors recycling bins.

Mello laughed and fired again. This time he hit a rat. Again. A plastic lawn flamingo exploded.

What would a snail look like under the pressure of this thing? Mello carefully aimed at a snail crawling by. He cocked the gun, focused...

BAM!

The next thing he knew he was on the ground, blood pouring out of his foot. The pain was terrible, but he finally managed to pull himself into a sitting position.

He shed his coat and wrapped it around his injured foot, and in the back of his head, he could hear a disappointed voice.

"No need to be so trigger-happy, Mihael."

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	5. Wheeze

Matt coughed, spraying his handheld with spit. It was no surprise, though. He'd been coughing a lot since he started smoking.

And he's been smoking a lot since Mello left.

He wiped the screen off and continued to play.

Another cough.

After his fourth or fifth coughing fit, he went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. On his way to the kitchen however, he felt his throat constrict. He started coughing and wheezing. Why had he started smoking if he already had asthma?

Next thing he knew, he was on the ground crawling.

_Where the hell was his inhaler? _

He dragged himself to medicine cabinet, and just as he was about to grab his inhaler, he let out a terrible cough and passed out on his bathroom floor.

xXx

When he wakes up again, everything is white: the walls, the ceiling, the floor, his covers and skin especially.

There was absolutely no room in his hellhole apartment that was _this_ clean.

"You gave us quite a scare there, Mister Smith."

Matt looks at the corner of the room, where he can swear he sees Mello for a minute.

"Mister Smith?"

Matt blinks once and looks round. Standing over him with a clipboard is one of the hospital's nurses. It takes Matt a moment to realize that 'Smith' is the sir name he gave himself on his I.D.

"Oh, yeah, right." He mumbles quietly. "Um, ma'am?" he asks. "How did I get here?"

The nurse looks at him like he's crazy, but the look doesn't last long. "A man called us and said he heard some horrid coughing coming from your apartment...said his name was Mello...something or other."

_Keehl._

Matt chuckled to himself. _Yup, that was Mello. Always one step ahead of the game._

Matt stopped chuckling long enough to cough.

* * *

_A/N: And thus begans Matt's long road down Paranioa Street!_

_To Be continued..._

_Reviews anyone?_


	6. Fold

"And that's why we're not allowed to watch Comedy Central anymore..." Rester drones on.

Near is bored out of his mind, and begins to play with a button on his shirt. He stops when he sees a small, shadowed area on his sleeve, where the cloth had been folded. His attention moves from the button to his shoulder.

At first, he prods at the cloth, trying to see if it will jump to life and eat him. When he decides that it is safe, he flattens the it, but the it bounces back.

_Definitely_ a wrinkle.

A wrinkle, a crease, a fold, a mistake, a flaw; call it what you want, it still bothers him.

On many occasions, Near is either told or, rather, overhears that he his or has a flaw; a wrinkle.

Halle tells him not to believe it, because she says that it's a lie, that they're only jealous, but it still hurts.

He _knows_ he's different, and he _knows_ he's flawed, and he _knows_ he's a mistake.

He must have heard it three hundred times through the course of his life, especially from Mello. And yes, after hearing it over and over again, it bothers him.

So that is why Near excuses himself from the meeting, goes to his room, trips over a Lego tower, and changes his shirt.

He just can't stand one more imperfection on him.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, give me a prompt, three characters, and some free-time and see what kind of crap I'll spew on and on about. _

_Sorry it took so long to update. I've been...busy. Like that's much of an exuse. I'm just tired and lazy and writing another story._

_Okay, here's how it goes. The more reviews the story gets, the faster I update, the faster I update, the faster the story is done. And the faster THIS stiry is done, I can post the new one! (I'm not a multi-tasking writer. One story gets ALL of my attention. _

_Also, I know I said I'm updating these in intervals of, like, two or five or something? TO HELL WITH THAT. I'll update when I want._

_There. I'm done. Hope you enjoyed it, please review if you liked it. ~whew~_


	7. Deaf

_A/N: Yeah, here it is._

_I'm not going to beg, but this story needs some reviews, so if anyone wants to make my day about a 110% happier, please review._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Mello stomps into the apartment, a scowl still plastered to his face from the previous hour.

It had been a _very_ bad day with the Mafia.

He plods over to the refrigerator and sorts through the shelves, trying to find the strongest alcohol he possibly can.

He grabs a bottle of the shelf and looks at it briefly, deciding it was strong enough when drunk straight. _Anything_ was strong enough if more than one bottle would kill you; or could just send you to the hospital, at least.

He flings himself onto the couch, not noticing Matt there, a handheld game in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

When Mello hits the gamer's boots, he jumps up. He looks down at Matt, not caring if he was still scowling or not.

"Do you _have_ to smoke that in here?" he whines.

Matt looks up at him briefly, his cigarette jotting out of his mouth precariously. "Hi to you too." he focuses his attention back to the game.

"Fine." Mello says dramatically under his breath. He shoves Matt's feet off of their third couch cushion so he can at least sit down semi-comfortably.

Mello takes a bite of chocolate and washes it down with vodka. He stares at Matt, half expecting him to strike up a conversation.

But this was Matt. He didn't start conversations, he ended them.

"Had a bad day today." Mello states. He moves his attention from Matt to a slightly discolored piece of chocolate.

Matt offers an unconcerned _hrmph_ noise in reply.

Mello shoots him a death glare. His complaints have fallen on deaf ears.

Maybe, he should have just stayed at work today.


	8. Cooperation

_A/N: Ah, here it is. This was just a quick update for the sake of updating. Sorry if the grammar is a bit iffy, I haven't showed this to my beta yet. :D_

_Enjoy, and drop a review my way please!_

* * *

"_You know Near and I don't get along. We've always competed."_

The words rang clearly in Near's head, as if Mello were right next to him and shouting them in his ear over and over again.

He wishes he was.

Near lets a sigh escape his cold lips and looks to the seat right by his. The blonde isn't there, and he probably never will be.

He glances to the rearview mirror, which is showing Ms. Linder's eyes staring straight at him. After an uncomfortable moment, she looks back at the road.

Near glances idly at the robot in his small, white hands. He feels almost guilty for leaving Matt back at Wammy's all alone. He and Mello were his only friends in that place, and they had both deserted him (one in a more or less pleasing manner).

Cooperation might have theoretically saved all of them, but Near knows it's just a vain dream of his.

They've always competed.


	9. Exasperate

Matt sits in the darkness, trying to finish his English paper before one in the morning. For the most part, he is well focused. Then again, he didn't have a certain blonde there to bitch to him all through the night.

And he honestly kind of _missed_ the bitching.

When his attention isn't focused on the enchanting life of William Shakespeare, Matt's attention is on a picture of Mello that is perfectly poised so that he sees it from every angle.

Matt tries to stop, to make himself focus back on Shakespeare, but something about Mello's blue, blue eyes keeps drawing him in and closer.

By the time his report is done, the sun is coming up, and Matt only has two hours of sleep before Roger makes his wake-up rounds.

He slumps down onto his mattress and tries to close his eyes, yet they're glued to the picture on his desk, Mello's printed eyes still locked with his. Matt finally gets up and flips the picture over.

He'd lost hundreds of hours of sleep over that boy, and he wasn't about to lose one more.


	10. Genetics

Mello had had a bad day. No, Mello had an _exceedingly_ bad day. The second he got back to the apartment, he brushed by Matt and collapsed onto the bed in the other room.

He knew sleep wouldn't fix the worst day of his life, but then again, neither would the grating sounds Matt's handheld.

The bedroom door closed with a loud _BANG_, causing Matt to look up from whatever first-person-shooter game he was playing, he had so many he had lost track hours ago.

When he turned off the sound and listened and he could he Mello's muffled screams through the pillow and the door.

It must've been one hell of a bad day if he could hear it over _two_ barriers.

He switched the game off and hauled himself off the couch. He stretched his back and gazed at the closed bedroom, where the screaming had subsided.

He began to walk to the kitchen when he stopped himself, realizing that Mello probably already _had_ chocolate and enough tequila to send one of his fellow mobsters into a coma.

Matt sauntered over to the bedroom. He knew something that _always_ made Mello happy. He stopped when he reached the door.

Here he was, Mail Jeevas, serving himself up on a silver platter to make someone else feel better.

He felt just like his mother. She had been (or maybe, _was still_) a whore and had possibly passed this wonderful trait onto Matt.

It was damn creepy to think that an occupation could be passed down through genetics, because if so, his and Mello's babies would be a hell of a lot better at Medal of Honor than he was.

* * *

_A/N: If anyone wants to make my day, they can drop a review to this story! Thanks._


	11. Inebriate

_A/N: Yeah, so here's another one. I kind of like this one, but..._

_Hey, drop a review if you don't mind. And please don't fav this story without reviewing._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Upon entering the Las Vegas Mafia, Mello had been branded as the latest "toy". This entitled any man or woman to do anything they wanting with him: Drinking, sex, shopping...you name it. It wasn't the most _glamorous_ position Mello could be in, but it got him in, and it got him _known._

On this particular night, a few of the higher ranked men decided to rent Mello out and get him drunk, and hopefully get a little more afterwards.

And that is how Mello found himself sitting on the fourth barstool from the left, the biggest freaking drink he had ever seen in front of him.

The color drained from Mello's face as it was placed on the counter and slid towards him.

I wasn't the first time he had drunken alcohol (no, he was quite used to the occasional shot of vodka or tequila) but it was the first time he had to drink this much. All things considered, he was much more of a Shirley Temple kind of guy to begin with.

"There you are," said one of the men, pushing it closer to Mello. The blonde's eyes widened a bit more and he grasped it in both hands. "Cheers." said the man.

"CHEERS" the rest of the group shouted in unison.

"cheers." Mello piped in, barely audible and his voice shaking. The rest of the men had already downed their drinks and ordered new ones. All eyes were on Mello, who had failed to even lift his.

Mello glanced around nervously. "H-here I go..." he muttered.

"Aw, for Christ's sake!" shouted another man. He grabbed the drink from Mello's slow hands and pushed it up to his lips and tilting it back, forcing it down his throat.

Although Mello was choking, the man refused to stop until the whole thing was gone. When it was, he placed the glass back down on the counter and all the sick bitches watched as Mello choked, some of the drink come back up.

They all headed for the car after that, leaving Mello on the fourth barstool from the left with more alcohol and guilt in him than anyone his age should.


	12. Eight

There were about eight things Matt would have liked to say to Mello before they died. Regrettably, he never got the chance.

He had tried to tell Mello sooner, but the blonde was always busy with _something _else, whether it was making plans, escape routes, or even cleaning (which seemed least likely of all, the only time Mello ever touched cleaning products is when he had to cover his own trail), he was constantly busy.

"Hey, Mello, I got some chocolate, -" but he never got past those six words.

Mello would brush past him, muttering something like, "Later, Matt." Or "Not _now_, Matt."And he vanished down the hallway of the apartment a minute later.

Sometimes, Matt had half a mind to pin Mello to the wall and yell all eight things at him, ending his performance with a kiss to the blonde's flushed cheek.

But that was all wishful thinking. And before Matt knows it, he's dead and still has eight things to tell Mello.

* * *

_A/N: Hey, it's my birthday, hows about dropping a review my way, eh?_


	13. Puerile

_A/N: Speedy update sure is speeeeeeeedy! :3_

_Personally, I really like this one. And personally, I think you should all review it._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

It was silly, really. It was something that they hadn't done since their days at Wammy's, when the snow lay in thick heaps on the ground. It wasn't something they planned on doing as nineteen year old boys.

Matt drags it outside and Mello is a few feet behind. The snow is falling harder now than it was when they came outside, but they tolerate it well enough.

The two boys come to the top of the hill and Matt looks at Mello.

"Now, are you sure you'd rather be doing this than coming up with elaborate catch-Kira plans? Are you _absolutely, positively-_"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Matt." Mello snaps. "_You're_ the one who wanted to do this. Can we just hurry up and get this over with?"

"Alright then..." Matt says, elongating his words. He puts the sled on the ground. He helps Mello onto it, as if he were helping a fine lady out of a chauffeur. He hops on himself, and as they push off, he lets out a whoop and Mello screams.


	14. Arid

_A/N: Sorry if this one is a little boring. I needed another Near based story, and truthfully, this was a hard word to write for._

_As always, Enjoy!_

* * *

Near looks out of the plane's window, completely bored. He's tired of the puzzle he chose to bring with him as a carry-on and the in flight movie was one that would only appeal to a child who was raised on a talking sponge.

He doesn't understand _why_ he had to go to Japan instead of the Task Force coming to America. He _clearly_ had more reasons to stay, but Halle insisted it was the _polite_ thing to do.

The stewardess comes by and gives him a packet of peanuts and a small Dixie cup of water. The peanuts are dry roasted and that's it. No salt, no nothing.

Come to think of it, Near thinks he may be allergic to peanuts.

The water is clearly tap water, and there is a yellowish tint to it. He passes it on to the old lady next to him, who is asleep at the moment.

He pulled out the picture of Mello from his breast pocket. Maybe, this flight wouldn't be so boring after all.

* * *

_Reviews? Anyone?_


	15. Balloon

_A/N: Just a short little thing my brain came up with. Please review if you like it or have any suggestions to make this story better!_

_~Enjoy!_

* * *

It's one of those tiny balloons on straws that people sell at grocery stores. It's simplistic at most and it's tied to a large Ghirardelli chocolate bar.

The balloon is a pale green and in squiggly letters, it reads, "Get Better Soon!"

Mello blinks once and cringes at the stretching sound his new scar makes. He sits up and grabs the chocolate bar off the bedside table. He hasn't been staying with Matt for long (only a few days or so), but he already knows that time has turned his friend into a sap.

Well, maybe 'sap' isn't the right word. The right word would be "worrywart" or "over caring".

Mello sucks on a corner of the semi-sweet confection and picks up the balloon and twirls it around in his fingers a little.

Perhaps, "Best damn friend in the whole wide world" was a better term.


	16. Knot

Mello reached for his boots from where they rested by the door.

The Lady in the apartment below them had said to _just take it easy._

The retired doctor across the street had told them to go to the hospital and get some painkillers.

_To Hell with it all, _thought Mello as he slipped on his left shoe with ease. He and Matt were doing BUT taking it easy. They were flying to Japan for God's sake.

Mello grabbed his other shoe and immediately noticed the knot in the laces. "Just what I need..." he muttered to himself.

It was remarkably cold outside, and Mello's fingers where brittle, making undoing the laces particularly difficult. It must've been whatever the hell Matt had him on, but Mello was crying in frustration when Matt walked into the room.

He noticed Mello struggling with the laces and walked over to him. He watched Mello for a minute before piping up.

"You know, Mells, I was talking with that lady in apartment 46b, and she said you should probably lay off some of the stress."

"Well, Matt, if you hadn't noticed, it's kind of hard for me to relax. I lead a pretty freaking stressful life." Mello said with flushed cheeks.

"At least let me help you with that." Matt said, gesturing to the combat boot. Mello handed it over willingly, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

In seconds, Matt had it undone. He grabbed Mello's foot and slipped it on carefully, tying the laces into a perfect bow.

"Hey Mello," Matt said, staring up at him.

"Hm?" the blonde said dreamily, savoring the feeling of Matt's warm hands.

"I think we just tied the knot."

Mello scoffed. "Screw you, Matt." Mello said jokingly as he disappeared beyond the apartment's door.

* * *

_A/N: God, could this get anymore fluffy? I'm rather disappointed in myself._

_If you liked it, please review. I love to hear what you guys think of this stuff._


	17. Ordinary

_A/N: Lord, I could stuff a pillow with all this fluff. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and decide to drop a review. _

_Sorry it's so short. This one was, well, not that easy._

* * *

Ordinarily, Matt would have minded being dragged all over Tokyo looking for a bar of European chocolate. He would have protested and kicked as Mello dragged him into the car and buckled him down. He would have refused to get out and Mello would point a gun at his head and make him.

Ordinarily, Mello would have been a complete ass while accompanying Matt on his errands; going to the GameStop, the drugstore... Mello would have pointed guns, made empty threats, and sworn. A lot. He would've stopped talking to Matt for the rest of the hour, and he definitely would have injured _someone._

But today is not an ordinary day. Today, Matt follows Mello to other side of province to find the only Ghirardelli shop in Japan, and Mello follows Matt on the errands.

Yes, today isn't ordinary and that's because it's their last day to live and they don't want to be anywhere but with each other.


	18. Voracious

_A/N: So, when I looked up the word "voracious", it had two meanings. See if you can spot both of them!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

When Matt woke up on that fateful day in November, he yawned, stretched, and thought _Damn, I'm hungry._

Clad in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a ratty Zelda shirt, he padded his way to the small kitchen in his apartment. He sorted through five cereal boxes (all but two expired), some packets of instant oatmeal, and pudding before moving from the cabinet to his refrigerator.

The fridge light wasn't working again, so after a few good smacks to the side (and whiffs of spoiled milk) he decided simply on an apple.

Matt tossed the fruit up in the air, caught it, and took a bite out of it. After finishing breakfast he practically skipped to the bathroom.

_Something isn't...right today._ Matt decided as the shower finally decided to heat up. _Something out of the ordinary is _defiantly_ happening today._

As Matt stepped out of the shower, and cold breeze blew through the room, he felt a knot tie its way into his stomach somewhere._ Hungry again? _He asked himself. _No, I just need some nicotine._

Surprisingly, cigarettes didn't quell the feeling in his stomach. And as the day progressed, it just got worse and worse.

When seven-o-clock rolled around on that fateful November day, Matt draged his best friend out a burning building. After a few hours of makeshift medical care, a brand new knot started tying itself in his stomach.

A knot that'll accompany him to his grave.

* * *

_So, did you find them? The first defintition was "hungry" and the second was "unusually eager". Second, if this confused anyone, when I say "A knot that'll accompany him to his grave", I mean that it's the anxiety of knowing that by re-connecting with Mello, he's going to die._


	19. Fever

_A/N: Not much to say about this one..._

_...So, just enjoy and have a Happy Christmas (or whatever you happen to celebrate)_

* * *

Matt put his hand to Mello's forehead. It was definitely a fever. Mello let out small groan and lolled his head to the side.

Matt wasn't really surprised. The one health class he had taken at Wammy's taught him that a low fever or high temperature usually came hand in hand with blowing yourself up.

Or was that something else...

He readjusted Mello's head so it was no longer drooping off the side of the couch, but so it was resting on the pillow on the couch's arm. Matt walked into the kitchen and pulled a can of chicken soup out of the cupboard. It was low sodium, and he hoped Mello wouldn't mind too much.

Well, the blond was practically unconscious on the couch, so Matt figured he could just add some extra salt without much trouble or hassling.

Matt set the pan on the stove, jacked the heat up to high (the sooner this crap was ready, the better), and dumped the can's contents ungracefully into the pan.

A few seconds, Mello let out another pained moan. Matt, who had been sitting on the counter playing Pokémon, jumped to his feet at the sudden noise.

"Coming...coming..." Matt muttered, as he hastily poured the steaming hot soup into a bowl and burned himself on the liquid that splashed out.

"Here it is!" Matt announced loudly as he entered the living room.

Mello looked loftily up at Matt. "You know," he said, gazing off to Matt's shoulder. "That's a really nice candy cane you're wearing..."

Matt looked down at the striped shirt he was wearing.

No doubt, Mello was either higher than a kite, or had a fever.


	20. Fountain

On Sunday morning, Near walks through the park alongside Halle. He doesn't really want to be there, dressed in his best clothes and coming back from a company brunch. Halle had promised him a trip to the new toy store if he didn't give her hell about anything, but that was the promise for the brunch, and this walk was just an afterthought.

He stops walking and after a few steps, Halle is tugged backwards.

"Near," she says in a severe tone of voice. "The toy store doesn't have to happen."

Near pouts and sits down on the ridge of the fountain behind him. "You said I have to behave during _brunch_." Near says matter-of-factly. "And the brunch is clearly over. You also said we could go to the toy store after brunch."

"We _are _going to the toy store...this is just a quick stop. Now, come on Near, let's go."

Near doesn't move from his perch and instead bares his teeth to her, like he used to see Mello do. Upon seeing this, Halle just starts to laugh, because when Mello did it, it looked threatening; when Near did it, it just looked silly. Near's face goes straight for a moment, but soon returns to his bared teeth.

He tries to do it harder and harder until his face hurts, and Halle just continues to laugh. When Near tries to do it yet again, he loses his balance and falls into the fountain with a loud _splash!_

Halle stops laughing a helps her employer out of the cool water. Once he is safe from any chances of drowning, Near looks up at her as he pushes clumps of wet hair out of his eyes.

"_Now_ can we go to the toy store?" he asks, as if going into a store soaking wet is as normal and shoelaces.

"Are you kidding me?" Halle asks. "While you're all wet like that-no sir- you are going straight back to headquarters and cleaning up."

As Halle pulls Near out of the water, he can't help but think it was all a waste.


	21. Innocent

_A/N: I really do love writing Mello in his Mafia days. It's just so much fun to torture him! This chapter actually inspired me to write a larger fanfiction about this sort of thing. If you want to see it, or liked this chapter, than you've got to review~_

_Mello is about fifteen here, just helping with any future confusion. Sorry it's kind of long, to make it shorter would be a crime. And confusing._

_Anyway.... Enjoy!_

* * *

Mello had been to jail once, back when he was in the Mafia. He was caught after trying to get away from a scene of a murder he didn't commit. The officer pushed him up against the car and asked him for his I.D. Mello was silent for a moment. His fake I.D. was back at headquarters and he'd probably get in trouble for saying that it was.

Although, if he told them he didn't have an I.D. then they'd ask where he lived and should he have said 'I live in the Mafia!' He would undoubtedly be in more trouble. Either way, he would be giving away the whole Mafia thing, which would get him killed later.

"I lost it." He lied against the cold metal of the car.

"Well than," the officer said. "Looks like your spending a night in the Big House." He shoved Mello into the backseat, where two other criminals were sitting. The only seat available was the middle seat, so Mello got to spend a thirty minute drive to the police station nestled between two lunatics who were intent on feeling him.

All Mello could think was_ innocent, innocent, innocent!_ When they got to station, he had to wait a long time before he spoke to the warden. He was given some change to make a call with, but really? Who would ever come to bail out Little Mello?

After a few seconds of thought, someone came to his mind. This person would hopefully have enough compassion to bail him out. He dialed carefully and after several rings, someone finally picked up.

"_Wammy's House: Orphanage for Extraordinary Children. How may I help you?"_ said Roger over the phone.

All Mello could do for a minute was breathe into the receiver, afraid to talk with so many people around. "Roger, it's me, Mello. I need-"

"_Good God, child, you must have some nerve calling back here."_

"Roger, I need-"

"_I mean, what an honor it is to speak to the great, _powerful-"

"Shut the hell up!" Mello hissed into phone. "I need you to bail my sorry ass outta here!"

"_Oh yeah?" _Roger said, cutting all sarcasm. "_Why in God's name should I help you? You left. You wanted nothing to do with us here at Wammy's."_

"You need to help me because half of the money L left behind in mine-"

"Mello." The Warden called out. "Get your ass in here."

Mello dropped the phone and gingerly walked into the office. He sat down in the chair before the desk.

"Okay. What'd you do?" The Warden asked as he cracked his neck and several knuckles.

"Nothing." Mello said. "I did absolutely _nothing._" Not even Mello believed this one, because it's true what they say: _They all say that._

Several questions later, Mello was transferred to a jail cell, which was shared by three men excluding him.

After a long, long night and a jail style breakfast, an officer came over to the cell and all of the men perked up a little, hoping they would get to leave the cell.

"Mello." The officer barked. "Your bail's been paid. Get out of here."

Mello was more than willing to oblige and on his way out he stopped by the officer.

"Excuse me?" He asked. "Do you know who paid the bail?"

The officer looked down at him through sun-glassed eyes. "Some detective, called himself 'L'."


	22. Wink

Near remembers Mello having a really sleazy wink. He must've picked it up in the mob, but it made Near melt every time it made its appearance. Honestly, it completed Mello, just like Matt did.

Matt had a wink that was sure to charm anyone--especially Mello. It added to his little-boyish look, and probably helped him steal carts and groceries from the young girls and grandmas working the register.

Near has never tried winking before. He just doesn't need it. He works in a large, lifeless building all day solving the world's problems. Who does he have to look good for? Halle? Sure. He doesn't need to win over a room full of ex-cons who view him as a sex toy; he doesn't need get his own groceries, that's what he has Giovanni for.

Near walks over to the bathroom and pulls a stool up to the mirror. He studies he reflection, makes a few faces at himself, and gets to business.

First, he tries winking like Mello. He opens his mouth a shows off the side of his face with the closed eye. He decides that he doesn't like that one _at all._

Next he tries to wink like Matt. He closes on eye, scrunches up his nose and tilts his head to one side. He looks like a little schoolgirl who is trying to be Madonna.

He even tried winking like L, closing his eyes one at a time right after each other. He just looked like a pint-sized pedo.

A bit of white noise distracts Near and he completely forgets about winking.

_A/N: Can you say abrupt ending? I know I can. Sorry about this Author's Note. I would've loved to use a page breaker, but is being a bitch._

_As always, review if you liked it or have a thought about it. Please don't favorite without reviewing._


	23. Yawn

It was around eleven at night. Matt sat on the couch, playing some sort video game. Mello was at the table, examining a file Halle had slipped him about Kira. The rings under his eyes were darker and more prominent than usual. He glanced up at the clock. It was 11:34. Mello wanted so badly to just fall asleep right there on the table.

But he couldn't. To Mello, falling asleep now would show some sort of weakness or vulnerability.

And the monsters were always watching him. Always.

Instead, he shook his head and walked over to the kitchen. He picked up a mug out of their almost bare cabinets. He turned on the coffee machine and waited, noticing every noise that went through the apartment. The machine let out a fire alarm-like sound, bringing the blonde back to reality and starling him quite a bit.

Mello poured himself a little less than a full mug and went to the refrigerator. He peered around the inside until he found exactly what he wanted. He pulled out the chocolate liquor and literally dumped it into the cup.

He downed it all in one chug and went back to his work. He sat down, pulled up his article, and then let out a big, noisy yawn. He immediately covered his mouth, as if he had just admitted to something strange.

Matt's diligent hands paused and the redhead stared over to his friend.

"Was that a _yawn, _Mells?" he asked.

Mello swallowed and removed his hand from his mouth. "Absolutely not." He said. And then he yawned again.

Matt strode over and embraced Mello. He kissed the top of the blonde's head. "How long have you actually been up?"

Mello looked at his watch on the table. "About forty-seven hours."

"Damnit, Mello, this case rally is going to kill you, isn't it?"

Mello looked at his friend sleepily. "It's either me, or thousands of innocent people." And with that he fell asleep.


	24. Void

_A/N: It's short, it's sweet, it's angsty..._

_Woulda look at that? It's SuperNear. _

_As we come to the inevitable end, I must tell you, I'm going to post the prompts on the very last chapter for those of you who want to embark on this journey._

_Consider yourself tagged._

_Please Review! Enjoy!_

* * *

If Mello had to think of any word to describe Near, it would be "void". He never spent much time on the subject; it was just something that popped into his mind at two in the morning, when he was still awake.

He shared his theory with Matt when the sun peaked over their musky moth-bitten blinds. The redhead, still groggy from his sleep, was confused.

"Why?" he asked rubbing his puffy eyes.

Mello set his elbows on the table and sipped his coffee. What had made seem so void like? So empty?

It was his eyes, cold and lifeless, like some sort of robot. They showed no empathy, no compassion, no humor, and definitely no love.

His heart maybe. With no room for anything but data. It probably couldn't even process the feelings that any normal person could.

It was then that Mello decided that near was definitely, _definitely_ a robot.


	25. Opera

_A/N: It's short, it's sweet, it's angsty..._

_Woulda look at that? It's SuperNear. _

_As we come to the inevitable end, I must tell you, I'm going to post the prompts on the very last chapter for those of you who want to embark on this journey._

_Consider yourself tagged._

_Please Review! Enjoy!_

* * *

If Mello had to think of any word to describe Near, it would be "void". He never spent much time on the subject; it was just something that popped into his mind at two in the morning, when he was still awake.

He shared his theory with Matt when the sun peaked over their musky moth-bitten blinds. The redhead, still groggy from his sleep, was confused.

"Why?" he asked rubbing his puffy eyes.

Mello set his elbows on the table and sipped his coffee. What had made seem so void like? So empty?

It was his eyes, cold and lifeless, like some sort of robot. They showed no empathy, no compassion, no humor, and definitely no love.

His heart maybe. With no room for anything but data. It probably couldn't even process the feelings that any normal person could.

It was then that Mello decided that near was definitely, _definitely_ a robot.


End file.
